paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- wherin i pout -- beware What I never imagined about being an adult was that I would be sitting at my computer late on Saturday night, on a gorgeous June night at that, trying to keep from feeling lonely and unhappy. As a youth, I never imagined that I would be anything but neat, fun, happy and full of life as an adult. Freedom, it was all about the freedom. I never imagined I would not be able to take a moment for what it is � at least I don�t have to work right now and can sit here. I could go drink a gin and tonic, too, if I wanted one. I could leave the house � well, no, that I couldn�t do without a great deal of hassle. Certainly, it never occurred to me that I would be dumpy and middle-aged. The curse of being a hip teen, almost certainly, comes with the dumpy and middle-aged syndrome. I have a birthday rapidly approaching on July 4. I�ll be 35, which is not that old I hear from everyone who is older than me. And just about the whole world is older than me or younger than me. Now that I�m out of school I rarely meet anyone my age. Where are we hiding? I wish everyone could forget about my birthday. I want to forget about my birthday. I hate it that I�m turning 35. And I hate it that I don�t get to hate it that I�m turning 35. My favorite short story is Indian Uprising by Donald Barthelme. When I first read it I was 19 and so much of what was contained in its pages was a mystery. I tried to chase down all of its cultural allusions to see what they added up to and dutifully tried to find some theory. Now I know they are the references that one earns for knocking about the earth long enough. They are a shorthand for the type of people inhabiting the story � they tell us something about the protagonist, for example, as a witty and trendy urban dweller of the 1970�s being sentenced to adult life in the suburbs. It is time to stop the big passion and get on with the process and procedures of life. I hate it that I�m too old to figure out what I�m going to do with my life. That here I am in a life and its all complete. There�s no room for me to change, unless of course, I improve. But if change and improve were really synonymous most of the time, we wouldn�t have two words. Language is efficient that way. One can learn a lot about life from linguistic nuances. I hate it that I�m turning 35 and I still haven�t been to Prague. When I was 19 a friend gave me a bunch of black and white postcards from Prague and I�ve looked at them ever since. I take them out of the box where I keep them, sometimes, when I can�t sleep, and look at them. Prague in the postcards looks deep, dark, and mysterious. It�s probably not that way. It would probably be a disappointment. Folks have caught on to Prague since then. And the whole I was country before country cool line of reasoning doesn�t really work. I hate it that I�m turning 35 and I haven�t arrived. I don�t even know where the station is to start the journey. My partner wants me to read a powerful book about living in the moment. I know it would probably help me but I�m afraid. When I stop thinking about all of the things I will do someday I know that I�ll be back to that sad, lonely base. That pathetic tears-of-a-clown that is me. I hate it that I�m turning 35 and can sum up my life with a golden oldie. Let me just specify � like when the English Beat sings Tears of Clown. Sometimes living in the moment is unfulfilling because in the moment I don�t have my potential and potential is my safety net. I hate it that I�m turning 35 because I can no longer live on my potential � potential is for the young. Each year, I�ve cashed it in for the cultural references and knowledge I�ve earned from making through this life. My sophistication. All of the privileges I have and apparently take too lightly. All of the love in my life. I hate it that I�m turning 35 and need to have a little temper tantrum. But you know, sometimes one just needs to be human and let the dark side out a bit. It doesn�t mean that I won�t turn the light on again and inspect the world and myself in full illumination. Sometimes one has to mourn that the years go by and the self erodes. Did you know that when you are cutting out a picture from magazine � actually cutting around some complex figure in the picture � that you should turn the paper and not the scissors. Somehow that fits. 12:10 a.m. - 2004-06-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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